Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories For Women

Bluebeard carefully unfastened his wife’s hands and feet and, lifting her into his arms, carried her over to the table with the shackles. He placed her gently on the table, adjusting her body so that she was positioned on her hands and knees, with her legs spread wide apart. Her wrists and ankles were quickly and adeptly fastened to the table. Then Bluebeard gently forced her head down onto the table and placed a clasp of sorts around her neck to hold it in place. She was deeply humiliated and agitated to be bound thus, for in this position her most private parts were especially laid open and visible. With horror she realized that her husband had walked to that end of the table and stood before her at that very moment, examining her.

She felt his warm breath on her flesh as he approached nearer, and then something soft and wet touched her exposed area. It took her a moment to realize that it was his tongue, and she moaned with a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. With precision and determination he continued relentlessly, until she was unable to fight off the feelings of arousal that were coming over her. She struggled under the constraints in an effort to enhance her own pleasure. But just before she reached a point of release, her husband stopped, leaving her anxious and fretful. He repeated this process several times, and each time he would test her submissiveness, asking, “Who will you obey from this day forward?” And to each inquiry, what else could she do, besides willingly acknowledge his power and vow to obey him?

Bluebeard continued teasing his wife in this manner for what seemed to her like an eternity, but suddenly he stopped abruptly and walked to the other end of the table so that he stood directly in front of her. Slowly he unfastened her neck and lifted her head. His pants had been opened, and his arousal stood within inches of her lips.

She hesitated only a moment before she understood what he meant for her to do. Then she took him willingly, eagerly even, for she felt a voracious hunger to please him in any way he would allow. He watched her carefully as she delighted in the pleasure she was giving him.

Urgently she struggled to take him as his thrusts became harder and faster, but when he was about to release himself she drew back, just as he had done with her. At that moment their eyes met, and she saw the silent demand in his. Hypnotized by his powerful gaze, she arched her neck in a submissive gesture, voluntarily taking him, and actually savoring him.

When he was finished, Bluebeard once again placed his wife’s head gently upon the table and fastened her neck as before. Then he walked out of the room.

His wife waited in absolute agony for his return.

He returned at last, carrying a small container. Once again he positioned himself at the foot of the table. She waited breathlessly while her husband prepared the next course of discipline for her.

All at once she felt a cold sensation creeping into her body. Frantically she tried to move away from it, but Bluebeard quieted her, holding her firmly with his free hand. Something was piercing her! Something unbearably cold!

She slowly realized that it must be some kind of large object made up of frozen liquid, for she could feel the sharp cold penetrating her, and the subsequent wetness as it slowly melted.

The cold awakened her senses, making them more acute, so that the longing she felt was quickly becoming painful. Yet before the pain yielded into pleasure, the object melted away to nothing. She whimpered as her husband slowly repeated the process, again and yet again, laughing occasionally over her obvious distress. But she was aware of nothing aside from the delightful torture between her legs.

This continued until Bluebeard’s wife was feverish and trembling. Seeing her thus, Bluebeard abruptly stopped the agonizing procedure and once again left his wife alone in the room. She moaned softly. There was an excruciating ache pulsating throughout her body that her position made it impossible to recover from. It throbbed painfully at the juncture between her legs, slowly rippling into her torso and limbs. She knew that she would have to wait until her husband chose to relieve her. And she waited.

At last Bluebeard came back into the little room, bringing with him another small container. She held her breath again as her husband resumed his position.

This time it was Bluebeard’s hands that she felt, gently caressing her. She moaned in pleasure, but a few seconds later she felt a searing heat where he rubbed, and she cried out in frustration. Bluebeard again quieted her and held her still, but the movement of his hand became more brutal, furiously probing her until she was aware of nothing but the scorching place where he rubbed. But this pain, too, soon gave way to pleasure, and she meandered between screams and moans, one moment shaking her hips furiously in an attempt to escape his tormenting caress and the very next moment working her hips against his hands to enhance the pleasure. But always he stopped when he perceived her pleasure and, scooping up more of the mysterious ointment, he once again began the process, spreading her apart and mercilessly forcing the heat deep inside her.

Finally, the poor lady had endured all she could and she began to weep miserably. Not liking to see his wife so unhappy, and thinking she had been punished enough, Bluebeard quickly unfastened her limbs and lifted her from the table. He held her tightly in his arms and kissed her wet face repeatedly, all the while comforting her with words of love. But she continued to sob.

Perceiving what his wife required, Bluebeard quickly drew her to him and filled her aching body with his own. He made love to her tenderly, and for as long as she wished him to. They remained there, in fact, for the rest of the day, and this time he pleased her over and over again, until all she had suffered earlier was completely forgotten.

As were her promises to obey her husband forgotten, and I daresay they have had occasion to visit the little room again!

Cat and Mouse

The game of cat and mouse is legendary, and is a favorite subject for novelists. What is it that draws one into the game, at once so fascinating and so antagonistic? It is a complicated matter that is ever being examined by the philosopher. I, too, have made many attempts to solve the riddle.

It seems to me that the game was more enjoyable in ancient times. Nowadays it is decidedly less satisfying. Somehow, as the stakes got higher, the players became more menacing and the game more ruthless. In truth, it is no longer even played the way it used to be. For one thing, the object of the game has very nearly been eliminated.

It has long been established, for instance, that Cat is physically stronger than Mouse, but Mouse has nevertheless been a worthy opponent by virtue of her superior instincts and faultless determination. Over the years, however, Cat has accumulated many unfair advantages over Mouse, taking the fair play out of the game. This development has had the peculiar effect of making the game all the more enticing for Mouse, while rendering it tedious and dull for Cat. Such are the circumstances of Cat and Mouse as I begin my tale.

In the story I am telling, supremacy belongs to Cat. Mouse has much less power in most respects: she earns and keeps less wealth, she has a much smaller voice in world events and, in short, she has fewer advantages than Cat. As would be expected under such circumstances, Mouse has lost much of her spirit, and Cat feels the loss without acknowledging it. And so, when he encounters one of those few delightfully tenacious mice who refuse to accept these terms meekly, this new breed of Cat is too frightened to respond appropriately.

Meanwhile, Mouse has lost respect for Cat, thinking him lazy and spoiled by those mice who have acquiesced to his superiority. The game, then, has reached its final stages of existence, and only in the rarest cases, as in the story described here, is it played with the vigor of ancient times.

As my tale begins, Mouse is keeping a low profile in a little hole in the wall in Cat’s world. She is dressed in a flimsy rag, which is the modern fashion for the mice in Cat’s world, but which barely covers her nakedness and leaves her always feeling exposed and exploited. Still, our Mouse feels relatively safe from Cat because of her rebellious attitude, which his kind interprets as coldhearted spitefulness. This suits Mouse perfectly, for Cat disgusts her.

“Ha! Cowards!” laughs Mouse, as yet another cat scurries past her little hole in the wall, hastening to get away from the hostile creature therein. “How fearful those big, strong cats become when they encounter anger from a powerless little mouse! I shall easily escape the fate of my sisters with mere animosity as my defense.”

Indeed, it was not difficult for her to bring forth feelings of animosity. She hated being exploited in this cat-dominated world, never being understood or appreciated for her intelligence and sensitivity. And yet, whenever a cat stopped at the opening of her little den to look her over, she was seized with strange sensations that were both disturbing and frightening. But she refused to let the cats see her fear or, more especially, her secretly harbored hope that she might someday meet a real cat, like those she had read about in romantic novels. So she hissed and cursed at them, laughing to herself as they nearly tripped over their own feet in their hurry to escape her.

She set her face in an expression of haughty disdain as she heard another cat approach. He was much larger than she was, as were all the others, but she reminded herself that size wasn’t everything. She was certain that her will was superior to his.

She struggled to remain composed as the cat stood in the entranceway, his eyes moving leisurely over her body. The usual agitation burned in her. By what right did cats think they could ogle mice in that rude way? How did it get to the point where this was considered normal behavior? If she behaved like other mice, she was now expected to be flattered to have been honored with his attention! She jerked her chin up even higher and met Cat’s eyes with a look of disgust.

He was uncommonly handsome, she grudgingly noticed. It was indeed unusual these days for a cat to care about his appearance at all. They were generally so scraggly and unkempt that it offended one to be anywhere near them. But then, the mice were so busy worrying about their own appearances that it rarely occurred to them to notice that the cats were not worth all the trouble.

This cat, however, was one of the few who would be considered worth the trouble. But that was all the more reason to avoid him in Mouse’s opinion, for the good-looking cats were worse than the slovenly ones. They were in great demand and they knew it, and it was hard work indeed to win their affection for a single moment, let alone to achieve any kind of long-term devotion. As she looked at this cat’s self-assured expression, Mouse realized he probably had a number of mice at his beck and call. She forced herself to look past his physical beauty.

But it was impossible not to note the thick hair that fell in short dark waves around his face, or the faultlessly chiseled features that arranged themselves into an expression of absolute confidence and poise. His muscular body moved with singular grace and ease. Mouse’s sharp instincts warned her that she had better get rid of him quickly. She drew her most effective weapon in ridding herself of cats: her tongue.

“Look all you like, pig,” she snarled. “You will never be allowed to touch.” For at the very least, this strange world in which she lived would not permit a cat to force a mouse to submit against her will. Indeed, there was not the slightest temptation for them to do so anyway, since mice were offering themselves up willingly to be the eager slaves of the undeserving louts!

To Mouse’s astonishment, Cat actually smiled at her remark and then slowly reached his hand into her little hideaway. Very carefully, so as not to touch her skin, he took one agile finger and lifted the ragged material of her covering up to her shoulders, exposing her body completely to his view. With an angry hiss she slapped his hand away.

“You did say I could look all I liked, did you not?” He laughed.

Now, Mouse had one weakness, and it was that she was highly competitive—especially in matters of wit and will. Hers was a character that was easily drawn into the game of cat and mouse. The cat’s clever retort, combined with his easy demeanor and absolute disregard of her bad-tempered manner was sufficient enticement for her to ignore her apprehensions and change her mind about her earlier resolution to get rid of him immediately. It might be better to torment him a bit first.

Her eyes held his with sudden interest, and one corner of her lips turned up in a smirk. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to assume a look of casual indifference. “I was only thinking of you just now,” she rejoined with mock sincerity. “I would hate your ego to suffer the singular blow of being refused what you desire.”

“It’s sweet of you to be concerned for my welfare,” he replied with a grin. His eyes burned into hers as he added, “But on that matter we both know you don’t need to worry.”

She wondered if his remark meant that he did not find her desirable, or if he was just so confident that she would acquiesce to him if he did. He saw her confusion and laughed.

More curious than ever now, she took the coy approach, saying, “I suppose you have too many mice to choose from to become overly excited about any single one, what with the harem of slaves you must have lined up to do your bidding.” She said this as if she was complimenting him, but the message was clear enough. One of the things she detested most about this modern cat’s world was the way mice were always so willing to debase themselves by selling their flesh to the cats as willing sex slaves. And yet, she knew it had to sting the cats’ pride to know that, even though they could buy virtually anything they wanted from the mice, they were, nevertheless, obliged to pay for it. In her remark, she was insinuating that he, too, would have to pay for favors, even though she suspected that it probably wasn’t true in his particular case.

Cat was not put off by her remark in the least, however, and with a cool and steady composure he answered, “Even so, I am willing to give you the opportunity of being my slave if you ask me nicely.” He loved the way her eyes flashed in anger at his remark. He was enjoying goading her immensely.

“I most certainly do not want to be your slave!” she huffed. How could he twist everything around so completely? She wished with all her heart she could wipe that Cheshire Cat smile off of his face!

“If you didn’t secretly wish to be my slave you would not have brought it up to begin with,” he argued.

His arrogance aggravated her, and her eyes flashed as her smirk became a sneer. “Could you really be so conceited that you think what I meant by my remark was that I wanted to be your slave?”

“I would bet my tail on it.”

“As confident as that, are you?” she challenged, looking for an opportunity to make him see how wrong he was. She was too inexperienced in the game to realize that he was baiting her.

“Shall I prove it to you?” he asked, returning her challenge.

“Prove—!” His audacity was really too much. An alarm of some kind flashed a warning inside her brain, advising her to be cautious but she was too provoked to heed it. Besides, it was exhilarating to finally meet a cat with a little bit of backbone and such a quick wit. Ancestral courage welled up within her in response to his challenging posture. She felt it was her duty to put him in his place, and so without another thought she blurted, “If you can prove anything but my utter disgust for you, I will be your slave for this very evening!”

As soon as the words were out she felt a flash of terror. Had she really just said that? And when had she stepped out of the protective shelter of her mouse hole?

It didn’t matter. She would never give in to him, and he would eventually be forced to leave her with his tail between his legs, unsuccessful and humiliated. This thought made her smile.

Cat was smiling, too, thinking, just when it seemed that all the mice were docile little fools, ready to submit to anything put before them, he finds this little gem. Why, she was exactly what he had been searching for his entire life. And to think that he had nearly avoided her, at the advice of the many other cats who had rejected her. “Bitchy,” they all called her! What fools! As exquisite as she was, it was to be expected that she would instinctively want a cat that was willing to put up a fight for her. He recognized this because he came from that same species of animal as she, who prefer a struggle before mating. He needed to continually prove his right to possess his partner, while she needed a mate that was worthy of her and unafraid. Through instinct he knew that they both felt these things, though he also knew that she did not fully understand them yet.

Cat stepped closer to Mouse and lightly brushed her hair to one side. She felt his warm breath on her face as he murmured, “How shall we put it to the test?”

She sucked in her breath and held it. A thought or two crossed her mind but she remained silent. She was utterly stumped.

“Perhaps a kiss,” he suggested finally, after allowing her thoughts to wander a bit.

She sighed in relief. All she had to do was withstand one kiss without swooning over him. She was certain that she could do that. How sweet it was going to be to send him packing after he did his damnedest to impress her with his best kiss. She nearly chuckled at the thought.

He looked in her eyes and saw the amusement there. So she was already congratulating herself on her victory, was she? Good. He needed to catch her off guard. But he warned himself to be careful. She was one-of-a-kind in their world, and he was not about to let her get away.

Confident now, Mouse tilted her head back in anticipation of Cat’s kiss, all the while looking expectantly into his eyes. He stared back at her while his lips hovered directly above hers for what seemed like an eternity. An uncertainty came into her eyes, and suddenly she was impatient. Was he going to do it or not? What kind of a simpleton says he’s going to kiss you and then doesn’t do it?

His lips remained so close that they were almost brushing hers. “Well,” he finally whispered, “where would you like it?”

“What?” she whispered back.

“The kiss,” he explained. “Where would you like me to do it?”

She stared at him in shock. Images that made her dizzy entered her brain, but she instantly forced them out of her consciousness. And yet she was trembling. She once again reminded herself that the wisest course would be to get this over with quickly.

And just how was she supposed to answer his question without sounding like she wanted him to kiss her? He really had an infuriating way of setting her up. What she would really like to do is— Suddenly she had an idea.

“I think the least-offensive place would be my foot,” she said at last, with an eager smile.

“Your foot it is,” he replied without disappointment. He had expected no less of her. Besides, his suggestive question had had the desired effect. He had noticed her loss of composure, if only for a few moments.

He went down on one knee before her in a deceivingly submissive gesture. As she prepared for her attack, Mouse felt a peculiar disappointment that he had allowed himself to be beaten so easily, and a strange regret that it would all soon be over. It occurred to her that, from somewhere within herself, she had hoped he would be smarter or stronger or something…but immediately she reproached herself for being so foolish, remembering that it was her pride and her freedom that were on the line here.

Cat gently picked up her foot and placed his warm mouth on it for a lingering kiss. Immediately after the kiss was concluded, Mouse yanked back her foot in a swift motion, with the intention of kicking Cat in the face—an act that would once and for all show him her utter self-possession and lack of response to him. But as she swung her foot forward to deliver the blow, his hand flew out with razor-sharp precision and caught her ankle, holding it in a grip of steel. She gasped at this unexpected turn of events. The strength she felt in the grasp he maintained on her leg sent a thrill through her. She tried to shake him off but he held her with as little trouble as she might have had holding a butterfly by the wing. All at once she was completely disarmed.

Suddenly she lost her footing, balancing and struggling on the one foot as she had been. With arms and legs akimbo, she fell, bottom first to the floor. With the swiftness of a panther, Cat reached out and caught her, breaking her fall with his hands. She was at first relieved and then horrified. His hands cupped her buttocks. She moved to get up, but he held her.

“We haven’t determined the effect of the kiss yet,” he said with smile.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still struggling to get up and away from his hands.

“What I mean,” he explained calmly, “is that I want to see if I was able to inspire ‘anything but your utter disgust’ for me with my kiss.”

“Oh…well I can assure you that disgust pretty much sums up my feelings,” she lied, trying to appear calm and unaffected. But it was difficult with his strong hands holding her the way they were.

“I don’t believe you,” he replied. “And I like to verify things whenever possible.”

“Well, it’s not possible,” she snapped back. “So you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

“But it is possible,” he argued. “It’s not only possible, but it’s also simple and painless.” So saying, he removed his hands from beneath her and pried open her legs.

At last she realized what he meant to do. A persistent tingling had been building up between her legs since before the kiss and now her desire was all but throbbing within her. “No,” she protested. “No.” She shook her head back and forth as she struggled desperately to close her legs.

“If it’s as you say,” he said in an annoyingly reasonable tone, loosening his hold on her legs for the moment, “after one brief inspection I will leave here and never bother you again. But if you’re lying, as I suspect, you are rightfully my slave for the evening.”

She gasped in horror. When did the tables turn and he become the victor?

“You can admit your desire for me directly if you’d rather,” he said patiently.

“Never!” she nearly shrieked.

“Well then, you have nothing to hide, have you?” he asked.

His eyes locked with hers, and it was as if she were hypnotized as she allowed him to open her legs wide. His fingers gently touched her, probing her. She cursed her treacherous body even as she shuddered with pleasure when his finger slid easily into the telltale wetness. He let out a hoarse groan and drew her into his arms.

“I win,” he said, just before his lips claimed hers.

Her pride was crushed but she could no longer deny that he had won the battle. Still, she conceded grudgingly. Her eyes flashed with anger and she bit his tongue when he pushed it into her mouth. This did not disappoint him in the least; it was again what he had expected from her. He willingly permitted her to vent all her rage on him. After all, he understood how annoying it could be to lose.

He gently held her arms down until she ceased her clawing, all the while continuing to kiss her tenderly. She struggled to fight off her feelings of attraction to such a worthy opponent; but gradually she began to submit to the warm feelings he kindled in her, and finally she accepted her defeat and returned his kisses with a passion that matched his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his body. But he only reveled in her total surrender for a moment. He had already decided that he wanted much more from her than one night of forced servitude. It was time to raise the stakes in their game.